


The Million Dollar Room

by NyxEtoile, OlivesAwl



Series: The Stark Mystery House [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sharing a Bed, Winchester Mystery House
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-08-27 09:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16699582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyxEtoile/pseuds/NyxEtoile, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OlivesAwl/pseuds/OlivesAwl
Summary: "I'm going to stop inventing guns," Tony informed them. "We're going to phase out weapons and start making useful things.”“I. . . think that’s a great idea,” Pepper said."And I want to move out west. And build a house.”“That sounds like a less great idea.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many of you know that Olives and I live in California near San Francisco. Also nearby is San Jose, which is home to the Winchester Mystery House. It was built by Sarah Winchester in the late 18 - early 1900s, she was a partial owner of the Winchester Repeating Arms Company. It's an enormous mansion, with many odd features, including a staircase the leads into the ceiling, a door on the second floor that leads to thin air, windows and skylights that look into other rooms and much more. It is thought to be haunted by the spirits of those killed by the Winchester rifle and that Sarah built it to confuse and appease said ghosts.
> 
> In October, Olives and I toured it with my daughter and got to thinking about a certain other owner of a weapons company that we love to write for and, well, here we are. Enjoy.
> 
> (ETA note from Olives: This is the house: <https://winchestermysteryhouse.com>)

_1880, New York City_

Pepper had worked for the Stark family since she was a girl—though at the time of her hiring, as a chimney sweep, she’d been pretending to be a boy. She’d had a variety of jobs, but liked her current one the best. It was very rare for a woman, particularly a young unmarried one, to be a man’s secretary. 

Given her employer was a millionaire and an eccentric genius, people forgave him for giving her the job, but also quietly assumed she was his mistress. As she aged into spinster years, there seemed to be less gossip, but none of it mattered as she was the orphan of Irish immigrants with no reputation worth defending in the first place.

Then Mr. Stark took a trip out west to for a weapons demonstration and never returned. Captured by Indians, she was told. His uncle moved into the house, took over Stark Arms, and presented a face of mourning to the world. 

Pepper hadn’t liked Mr. Stane when he was a side character who came to dinner. She liked him even less as a boss. Particularly when he told her that if she wasn’t going to sleep with him, she could go live in a room in the attic with the rest of the maids. He sold family heirlooms. He fired the butler that had worked for the family for 25 years. She contemplated if scrubbing floors for pennies—the usual job open to women like herself—would be an improvement.

Like she’d conjured it, she was then ordered _to_ scrub the front hall floor, which is what she was doing, alongside contemplating stealing the silver when she quit tomorrow, when Mr. Stark walked right in the front door.

Of course, he looked like a hobo and had a tomahawk hanging off his belt, so she screamed and threw her scrub brush at him before she got a look at his face.

He sputtered little, wiping soap suds out of his beard. "Good to see you, too, Potts.”

She pulled herself to her feet. “Jesus, is that really you?”

"No, it's Mr. Stark. I'm hoping Jesus doesn't show up till later." He frowned at her. "Why are you cleaning the floor?”

“It’s part of my job now.” 

He planted his hands on his hips, looking more like himself. "Says who?”

“Your uncle. He’s taken over.” She took a step closer. “What happened to you?”

"On my way home I was attacked by bandits. They held me in a cave for . . . a long time. I got away.”

“We were told Indians took you, and to assume you were dead.”

"Let me guess, by my uncle?”

She nodded. He looked angry and lost and for a moment all she wanted to do was hug him.

"Right. We'll see to that." He took a deep breath and bellowed, “Obadiah!" 

“He’s probably in the office,” Pepper said. 

He started up the stairs and she followed him. “Where is Jarvis?”

“Mr. Stane fired him.”

Stark glanced back at her, expression turning murderous, before continuing up the stairs and barging into the office door. He slammed the door behind him, and Pepper stayed in the hall listening to the shouting, wondering if she was about to be witness to a tomahawk murder.

She could only pick out a few words here and there. Kidnapped and variations on it featured heavily. Torture was mentioned at least once. A wide variety of curse words peppered it all. There was the sound of what might have been a tomahawk on wood and then the door was flung open and a rattled Stane stumbled out. He saw Pepper and glared at her, and she stepped back until she backed into the wall.

"I wouldn't touch her, if I were you," Stark said, standing in the doorway with his tomahawk. "The police are outside, Obi. Them or the hatchet. Your call.”

Stane looked from one to the other, then sprinted down the stairs and out the door. Stark chased him, and then there were gunshots outside. Pepper got as far as the bottom of the stairs and sat.

There was a lot of yelling, then some quieter speech, then Stark came back inside and slowly took a seat next to her on the stairs. He let out a long, slow breath. "I need a drink. You want a drink?”

She looked over at him. This close she could see a scar over his eyebrow that hadn’t been there before. “That sounds like the best idea I’ve ever heard.”

He nodded and got to his feet, then reached down and held a hand out for her. She took his hand, and let him pull her up. He gave it a squeeze before letting go, and the urge to hug him surfaced again.

Instead she followed him to his study and sat while he dug through the bar. "That bastard. He finished off my best bottle of whisky.” 

He found a bottle of something, and brought it over with two glasses. Pepper watched him pour. “Did they shoot him?”

"Yes. But he wasn't dead. They took him away to a doctor.” 

He filled a glass and downed it, then refilled. Pepper took a slug of hers. “What happened?”

He stared down into his glass a moment. "He wanted the company. Didn't like how I was running it. So he hired bandits to kill me.”

“God,” she whispered. He nodded, and then she added, “I can’t believe you didn’t chop him up with your axe.”

"Too quick." He took another drink. "I wanted to give the police a shot at him. I feel life in a cell will upset him more.”

“And maybe now there will be some gangrene, too.”

He flashed a grin. "Fingers crossed.”

“He fired about half of the staff. Said your hiring was wasteful and your servants should be working longer hours.” From a technical perspective, Stane had been right about that. Mr. Stark had a soft spot and tended to just hire people who needed a job even if he didn’t actually have a job for them. He tended to pay everyone way too much as well, for market rates. He was so rich he had no sense of scale of costs, and his instincts had him lean on the side of generosity. But for the life of her Pepper couldn’t understand why Stane had been so disdainful of that, given all the other things money was extravagantly blown on around here.

Stark rubbed a hand over his face. "I'll have to track them down, see if anyone needs rehiring. Starting with Jarvis. I can't believe - Well, I can. But the Jarvises have been with my family for three generations now. You can't just toss him on the street.”

“He’s in a rooming house downtown. I’ve been sending him money while he looks for another position.”

"We're going down there right now." He rubbed his chin. "Unless you're concerned I'll scare the shit out of him.”

“He might drag you directly to the barber shop, but you’ll make his day. And you should see him before it shows up in the evening papers.”

"That's a very good point. Let's go.”

Jarvis, the most restrained human being Pepper had ever met, hugged him when he saw him. And then, yes, did insist he get a shave and a haircut and some decent clothes.

"All right," Stark said, as Jarvis hustled them both out of his rooms. "Then I'm going to tell you two about my idea.”

Pepper sighed, unable to imagine what sort of terrifying weapons abduction and captivity had caused him to dream up. Maybe it would be a bomb that flew. 

Once he was cleaned up and trimmed up and in normal clothes, Stark looked very much like he had before—though much of his casual, flippant arrogance was gone. And it wasn’t exactly normal for a man to wear a hatchet of any size while sitting in their parlor, but neither her nor Jarvis commented.

"I'm going to stop inventing guns," he informed them. "We're going to phase out weapons and start making useful things.”

“I. . . think that’s a great idea,” Pepper said.

"And I want to move out west. And build a house.”

“That sounds like a less great idea.”

"No, it'll be good. I need somewhere to experiment and there's not enough room here. We'll bring the servants, anyone who wants to come. The rest get severance.”

“You don’t need to go all the way out west for space,” Pepper said. 

"But I want to.”

She and Jarvis exchanged a look, and she asked, “Why?”

"Because the West is open air and land and space and you don't have to have neighbors if you don't want to and right now that appeals to me.”

“You could get that in New Jersey.”

"But then I would live in New Jersey.”

She sighed. “I will get someone working on real estate.”

"Thank you.”

By ‘west’ it turned out he literally meant California. All the way to the pacific if possible. Something about it didn’t feel healthy to her. But there wasn’t much she could do about it. She sent out inquiries and located potential properties, all the while hoping he’d become distracted by the city or by work, and forget the idea.

She held onto this hope all the way up until he announced land and a house had been found and purchased and they needed to pack to move.

It was hell to coordinate—quite a few of the servants were making the move, some bringing families with them. Someone had to be hired to actually run Stark Arms—which he’d re-christened Stark Industries. They’d canceled all their military contracts and taken the once-prized machine powered guns completely off the market. The only weapons they made now were rifles and shotguns for consumer use. The rest of the factories were making a host of mechanical products like adding machines and sewing machines and telegraph equipment.

Pepper had a an entire house pack and close up, tons of freight to ship, transports to arrange, and an entire ocean of paperwork. “So what kind of severance would I get,” she asked him one morning.

He blinked at her, startled. "You're not coming?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, because she didn’t.

"I hadn't thought about it." He paused a moment. "Let's be honest, I'd probably have you decide it. You could set yourself up for life.”

“I suppose I could. That’s good to know. I did not enjoy floor scrubbing.”

He studied her a moment. "I can't do this without you, Potts.”

“I have everything organized for the move,” she assured him. “And I’ve got advertisements for additional servants for when you get there.”

"I know. I appreciate all of that. But I need. . . you. I can't replace you.”

Flustered, she looked back at her notes. Part of her was afraid to go. A larger part was horrified by the idea of staying. Which maybe was a sign that she should. This should be a business decision, not an emotional one. “San Francisco is a very civilized town, I’m sure there are plenty of qualified secretaries.”

He snorted. "Qualified secretaries is code for boring.”

“I am very boring.”

"You really aren't, though.”

“Maybe I’d like to be boring. Enjoy a life of leisure on my apparently extensive severance.”

He considered her a moment. "You'd last four days before you were climbing the walls.”

She didn’t like that he knew her that well. “Probably.”

"Come with me, Potts. It'll be an adventure.” When she looked up at him he was watching her with great intensity. Like maybe he really did think he couldn’t go without her. It was a thread that seemed very dangerous to pull on. But it was enough to make her nod.

He broke out in a grin. "Good. Great. Thank you.”

“But you are going to pay me well, and I am going to have a really nice room in your wierd mansion.”

"You are. Give yourself a raise. Buy the most expensive furniture you can find.”

“I think everything is expensive in California.”

"Well, there you go, then.”

She watched him a moment. “Are you really sure you want to do this?” she asked.

"I am. One hundred percent." No hesitation. No pause for thought.

She really hoped she didn’t regret this.


	2. Chapter 2

Tony did not personally think it was humane to ask a person to spend an entire week sitting upright in a chair, so he bought everyone coming with him berths in the sleeping cars. He was sure it horrified a bunch of snobby First Class travelers, and Pepper had to go talk to the porters about how, yes, there really were seven people with immigrant accents coming to their car and it wasn’t a scam. 

Embracing being an eccentric rich lunatic was very freeing.

He owned a private car, of course, and it was hooked up to the train and waiting for him. Its three bedrooms let him have Pepper and Jarvis ride with him.

He took up most of the parlor with his paperwork and plans. The house he'd purchased was six rooms, and his local solicitor had already put ads out for builders and workers. Ideally, he could start work right away. He already had ideas for improvement of airflow and durability.

He felt better. Less like the walls were closing in. Though the bad dreams didn’t stop though. One night as they began to climb into the rockies, he woke up feeling like he was having a heart attack.

Staggering from bed, he banged on the wall, hoping to alert help. He hit his knees, trying to catch his breath. The door opened, and he saw skirts in his peripheral vision. Pepper’s room was on the other side of his wall. 

She kneeled down next to him. “What’s happening?”

His hands fluttered on his chest. "Heart. Heart attack.”

“Oh, God,” she breathed. She moved, like she might go get someone, then stopped and settled back down. Which was good because he didn’t want her to go. Jarvis couldn’t do anything. Would there even be a doctor on the train? Weren’t the doors between the cars locked at night anyway? He didn’t want to die alone.

She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him, the kind of hug he hadn’t had since he was child. He was startled at first, then leaned into her, taking a deep breath of her scent. He could pick out lavender and sage and some faint floral he couldn't place. A few more deep breaths confirmed it was probably rose.

That was when he realized the pain in his chest had eased and his heart beat was no longer pounding in his ears. She rubbed his back, humming a little. As he relaxed, he felt her fingers on his neck like she was feeling for his pulse.

He coughed lightly. "I think it's. . . passing?”

“You seem to still be alive.”

"I'm as confused as you.”

She wiped his brow and squinted at him in the dark. “You look like you ran 20 miles in a heatwave.”

"Sounds about right." He leaned back a little and tugged a cloth off his wash stand, rubbing it over his face. "I feel awful. But alive.”

“We can find a doctor at the next stop,” she said. “In the mean time, let’s get you back into bed.”

He nodded. "All right.” Though he was a little shaky, he could get up fine by himself, and climb into his bed. She tucked the blankets around him and he realized that her arms were bare. All she was wearing was a summer nightgown, the sort that was probably a little translucent in better light. 

He touched her arm, mostly for the excuse to feel bare skin. "Thank you.”

She shivered, but she didn’t recoil. If anything, she leaned into the touch. He wondered how long it had been since anyone hugged her. “You really scared me.”

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I was scared, too.”

She nodded. She brushed his hair off his forehead. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

He smiled. "I'll make every effort to stick around.”

“Can I get you anything?” she asked.

For an insane moment, he thought about asking her to stay. She'd probably slap him, heart attack or no. "Some water.” She nodded, and went out into the car. She came back with a glass, and a dressing gown on.

He attempted to his his disappointment, taking the glass. "Thank you.”

“Anything else you need?” she asked quietly.

"No. No I don't think so. Maybe sleep will help.”

“All right.” She hesitated, then asked, “You want me to stay until you fall asleep?”

Well, if she was going to suggest it. "I wouldn't say no.”

She patted his arm and settled into sitting at the foot of the bed. She rested her hand on his ankle through the blankets. He sighed and sipped his water, draining half the glass before putting it aside. He was very aware of her hand on his leg, and a little embarrassed she was sitting there. But exhaustion was starting to creep in, so he let his eyes drift shut.

The rocking of the train was soothing, and his sleep was dreamless. When he woke again, it was just bare dawn. At some point, probably half asleep, Pepper had decided to lay down properly, because she was stretched out next to him on top of the blankets. It was at least a double bed so she wasn’t on top of him. But it was a near thing.

Her hair was certainly spread out over his chest, in a rather intimate way. And he took the opportunity to lift a lock and wrap it around his finger. He turned face toward her and picked up up her scent, the same lavender and rose that he’d found calming last night.

Unable to resist, he tucked his arm around her and rubbed her back the way she had his. She shifted closer to him, until she put her cheek on his shoulder. He wasn’t sure if she was awake or not. But then she reached her hand up and flattened it over his heart—which did still seem to be functioning.

"I'm afraid I've thoroughly ruined you," he murmured.

“You’re the one Jarvis will make faces at,” she replied, her voice not much more than a whisper.

"Jarvis will throw rose petals at us. He loves you.”

“And he’ll be mad at you for taking advantage of me.”

"And I'll point out you have a mind of your own and I'm not a beast.”

She sighed a little, settling like she was getting comfortable. “You could be the most proper gentleman on earth, and you would still be one of the richest men in the country and I would still be your servant.”

He was quiet a moment. "This is hypothetical right, I didn't actually do anything untoward to you?”

Pepper laughed. “Other than almost dying on me, no. And yes, this is a ridiculous conversation.”

"Good. I continue to not be dead, which I think is a good sign.”

“I agree.” She sat up with some visible reluctance. “I should get back to my room before Jarvis is up or the porter comes.”

"Yes." He watched her. "Thank you for staying last night.”

She looked back down at him, and he could see emotions shift on her face. “I was afraid you’d die. So I just wanted to be here.”

He nodded. "No one wants to die alone.”

She found his hand to squeeze. “Call me if it happens again, okay?” 

"I promise.”

Pepper nodded and climbed off the bed. He watched her let herself out, and give him a little wave at the door before closing it behind herself. With a sigh, he flopped back onto his pillow. He was a complete idiot.

At the next stop, their porter brought a doctor who had been traveling in second class back to Tony’s car. The man listened to his heart, said it was probably weak, and would eventually probably kill him. “Don’t drink, don’t smoke, don’t over excite yourself. Pretty as your wife is.”

He didn't bother to correct him because he was busy contemplating a life with no more drinking. "That's it? Nothing to be done for it?”

The doctor shook his head. “Most people don’t survive the first one. I wouldn’t expect to survive the second.”

"Great. Well. Thank you for coming over.”

“Good luck,” he said. 

Once he was gone, Pepper appeared in the doorway. “What did he say?”

He shrugged easily. "Probably just a little attack of indigestion. Told me to drink more water before bed.”

Her brow knit, and for a moment he thought she’d call him on his bullshit. Then she sighed and said, “I’ll see you get better food.”

"All the food is fresher in California.”

“Maybe we should go back to New York. There have got to be better doctors—“

Just the idea of it made his chest tightened again. "We're closer to California than not. I'm sure there's a decent one there somewhere.”

She sighed, probably because she knew she couldn’t change his mind. “All right.”

"I promise to take it easy the rest of the trip," he offered, hoping to appease her.

The mountain air seemed to do him good. He felt much better as they descended into California. They had a long stop in Sacramento, and he went into town to buy something for Pepper. Something for her to have when he died. Just in case.

When the train finally reached the end of it’s line, they took a ferry to San Francisco. He put everyone up in the fanciest hotel he could find. 

In the morning Pepper knocked on his door with an armload of invitations. “So all the railroad barons want you to come for tea.” She sorted through the envelopes, fishing one out. “The concierge told me this one’s an asshole. Apparently he built a forty foot fence around his neighbor’s house for spite.”

Tony grinned and held a hand out for the envelope. "I like him already.”

“There’s also one from ‘The Emperor of the United States’ that is written in pencil. I don’t really know what that is about.” 

"I'm intrigued. Gimme.”

She handed them over. “I do have a lot of shopping to do, so I’d like to keep a lid on the correspondence.”

He waved a hand. "I know, I'll be good. But I should probably make a couple appearances to prove I'm really me.”

“I know one is for a party Thursday night. You could go to that and meet everyone.”

The idea of being in a crowded party made a cold swear break out on his back and neck. "I'll think about it.”

“The Emperor might be looking for an arms deal.” She said it as a joke. He could hear it in her voice. But then just as suddenly all he could see or hear were machine guns firing and women and children screaming.

He took a breath, gripping the edge of his desk, trying to fight it down. Blood roared in his ears. It sounded like Pepper might have said something else, but he had no chance of hearing it. His chest tightened until it hurt and he couldn’t breathe. This again. He thought he’d have more time.

His heart didn’t feel weak. It was pounding so fast it matched the guns. 200 rounds a minute. 1,000 yard range on an open prairie. They had nowhere to go. He had nowhere to go. He tried to close his eyes, block it out, but it made no difference. He could till see them running, hear them screaming.

Something struck him sharply across the face and he blinked his eyes open, relieved to see Pepper standing there in front of him, looking frightened. “Tony?” He couldn’t recall her ever using his given name before.

He took another deep breath. "I'm here. I'm all right."

She put her hand over his heart. “Is it. . .?”

"It's fine. It's slowing down.”

Then she hugged him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He closed his eyes again and got lost in the lavender and rose. The deep breaths helped more when they came with her floral scent.

After a few minutes he felt calm, his heart beating within normal parameters, and he leaned back. "Maybe I'll embrace being a hermit.”

“What _was_ that?”

He blew out a breath. "I don't know. I just. . . for a moment I was somewhere else.”

She looked very concerned. Perhaps she thought he was losing his mind. He wasn’t sure he’d disagree with her. “But you’re back now?”

"I am. I'm here." He rubbed a hand over his face. "I'm buying you a vat of your perfume.”

She blinked. “My perfume?”

"The rose. It smells nice. Calms me down.”

“Oh. Well. It’s not fancy, but I may have to order it from New York.”

"Whatever it costs, I'll pay.”

She chuckled. “You already do.”

He smiled, glad to see her laughing. "I suppose now I'll pay more. Or, maybe we'll start a perfumery on site. Make you your own special blend.”

Slowly she dropped her arms and let him go, and he felt the loss. “For the moment how about I make transport arrangements for us to head south?”

"Yes, please. I'm less in the mood for socializing than I was.”

“All right.” She looked him over carefully once more, and then she left.

Tony waited a moment to make sure she wasn't going to pop back in, then buried his face in his hands. He couldn't wait to get out there in the country. His little carved out haven of peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those not familiar with trivia about Victorian San Francisco, the [Crocker Spite Fence](https://www.kqed.org/news/10449405/boomtown-memories-the-nob-hill-fence-that-spite-built) and [Emperor Norton](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emperor_Norton) are two of my favorites.


	3. Chapter 3

The line of wagons carrying people and trunks and furniture and goods stretched out behind them. The house was in front of them. He and Pepper stood side by side.

“So it’s kind of. . .small,” she said as diplomatically as she could. It was a regular sized house. Even a nice middle class house. A prosperous farmer might live in it with his family. But they weren’t a family, they were an entire household. 

"Carpenters should be here in the morning. We'll fix that soon enough.”

She looked at the stubborn set to his jaw and sighed. At least there was a barn.

The barn got all their possessions, and the heartier servants. The weather was very nice, but it did get a chill at night, and there were only three bedrooms inside. One was obviously Stark’s. Everyone else bunked down by sex, on what furniture they could drag in and fit in the room.

Pepper found herself sharing a room with the two maids that had come across the country with them and the cook that Stark had hired out of a brothel somewhere just out of the Rockies. This was not how she had pictured this at all.

“I have to admit, this situation surprises me.” The cook’s name was Natasha, and she had a Russian accent that made everything she said sound vaguely ominous.

Pepper crawled under the blankets and looked over at her. “I didn’t know the house would be so small, either.” 

“No, I’m surprised you are in here with us.”

“Where—Oh, no, we are not like that. I’m his secretary, not his mistress.” 

Her brows raised. "Really? Not at all?”

“No,” she replied firmly, feeling a little offended. 

"Sorry, sorry. I just. . . got the wrong sense from you two.”

Pepper sighed. “It’s okay, many people get that sense.” She looked over at Natasha. “If you’re thinking of applying for that particular job I should warn you he has a lot of nightmares.” She said even though the idea made her feel a worse than she wanted it to. “Though given the size of the house, that will be pretty obvious soon enough.”

"When he hired me, he promised I didn't have to sleep with anyone I didn't want to. No offense to Mr. Stark, but is not my type.”

She chuckled. “He’s probably an acquired taste at this point.”

"There's an understatement," said the maid on her other side, a pretty brunette named Darcy who had jumped at the chance to get out of New York.

“We really should sleep,” Pepper said. But she had to admit, a little company wasn’t so bad.

"You don't want to stay up and gossip?" Darcy teased.

“I have no gossip to share.” That wasn’t true. She had a wealth of information other servants might find fascinating and entertaining about their boss. But some things were private.

"You're no fun.”

“Goodnight.”

In the morning, carpenters arrived, though there was still a lot to do before actual building could commence. A lot of cleaning and preparation. It was hard labor, and she was surprised how much Stark joined in. It seemed good for him, though. Everyone fell into bed exhausted each night.

The workers were a bunch of characters. The foreman organized and ran them like a military unit. He had a friend with him who lost an arm, who Stark seemed delighted to make a mechanical arm for, and who turned out to be perhaps the best carpenter in the bunch. There was a gigantic Norwegian immigrant, a man who’d spent his childhood as a slave, and a man who rarely spoke, but had once worked for PT Barnum, and whom Natasha fairly quickly took up with.

More people were hired, and a tent village sprouted in the field beside the house. A new wing went up, they all moved into it, so the original roof could be removed and the rooms engulfed by the expanding house. 

During those months, particularly through the rainy winter when work slowed, Stark’s heart condition re-appeared. It seemed tied up in his nightmares, and when it happened he’d bang on or throw something at the wall between their rooms, she’d go in there, and she’d hug him until he calmed down. Just her perfume didn’t seem to do it.

When they moved to the new wing, she moved into the room next to his, despite it being very odd for her position, specifically because of that happening. Everybody had to think they were sleeping together now.

In the spring, a builder fell while working on the roof and the doctor in town couldn't get here in time. The nightmares after that were worse and came every night. after a week of hardly any sleep she finally broached the topic of a house doctor.

"The last one wasn't particularly useful," he muttered, hunched over some pile of metal that was probably eventually going to be an arm for Barnes.

“This would be one to work for us full time. At the very least a nurse.”

"Is this about the man who died or your crazy boss?”

She put her hands on her hips. “I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in a week.”

"Crazy boss, got it.”

“It’s about whatever is wrong with your heart. I don’t come in because you’re having a bad dream, I come in because you might die.”

He scowled at the metal a moment. "I don't want some ancient snob who'll tell me to eat liver and ply me with laudanum.”

“You know there’s at least one dish that Natasha makes that you like that has liver in it."

"Well it's clearly hidden in some sort of delicious sauce and doesn't count.”

“I will find you someone who is not an ancient snob. I promise.”

His sigh was deep and put-upon. “Fine."

Her sigh in return was resigned. God forbid he think about someone other than himself. “Thank you.”

She turned to go and he said, quietly, "I'm sorry for keeping you up.”

Pepper looked back at him. "It's not your fault."

"I'm the one that bangs on the wall."

"If you don't and then you die, I'll never forgive myself."

"I think it's clear I'm not going to die. I've had a dozen of these and still see every morning."

She tilted her head. "Then why do you keep banging on the wall?"

His mouth opened and closed. Then he frowned and looked back at his tinkering. "Instinct."

"Because in that moment you _think_ you're going to die?"

"It certainly feels like it. In the moment.”

Pepper straightened her shoulders. “Well, then, I will be there.”

This time his sigh was soft enough she couldn't tell if it was relief or resignation. "All right.”

That night, in the middle of the night, Pepper woke to the sound of glass breaking. She got up and threw on her robe and went next door. He usually was sitting on the floor when she found him, over by the wall. This time he was sitting on the edge of his bed, having knocked over the pitcher and wash basin. At least it wasn’t the lamp. Better water everywhere than kerosene.

He glanced over at her and his shoulders slumped. “Sorry."

She sat next to him and held her arms out. ‘Come here.”

Without a word of protest he shifted and leaned into her arms, taking a deep breath of her scent. She’d tried spraying things with her perfume, she’d tried giving him a bottle, but clearly it had to be her. She rubbed his back and closed her eyes for a moment because she was just so tired. “You want to lay down?” she whispered.

He mumbled something incoherent, but tipped them back to lay on the bed. She got the blankets around them. It was warm and comfortable, and she could feel him relaxing. “You could have called me,” she whispered.

"I wasn't really awake. Sort of thrashing in my sleep.”

“Bad dreams? You never tell me what you dream about.”

His hand started to rub her back. "Guns. Screaming. People dying.”

There was a long stretch of silence before she mustered up the nerve to ask, “What happened to you?”

She thought for a moment he'd fallen asleep, or just wasn't going to answer. Then he said, "I saw something that I can't stop seeing every time I close my eyes.”

“When you were in the cave?” He hadn’t said anything about that but the bare facts, but she’d heard some of what he yelled at Stane it sure sounded like the stuff of nightmares.

"Before, actually. During the weapons demonstration.”

She brushed his hair off his face. “I don’t understand.”

"The weapons demonstration I went out for. For the chain fed gun. It was done on live targets.”

Pepper sat up a little. “Like shooting buffalo?”

"People. Natives. Women and children.”

She sucked in a breath, reaching out to touch his face. “Jesus. They just. . . killed them?”

He nodded. "They tried to run, but there was nowhere they could go. The soldiers just laughed and re-aimed.”

Feeling nauseous, she took a deep breath and swallowed. It explained a lot of things, including his obsession with the deaths his guns had caused. Why certain things seemed to aggravate his heart condition. “That’s why you didn’t want to make weapons anymore.”

“Stane arranged the demo. I sent back an angry telegram telling him to shut the factories down. On the way home I was kidnapped.”

She stroked his hair, and he turned his head into the touch. “What an awful thing to bear alone,” she whispered.

He huffed out a breath and leaned his head on her shoulder. "I can't give the lives back. But maybe I can save some. Balance the scales.”

“That’s a worthy goal.” There was a long pause, then she asked, “Will you sleep better if I stay?”

"Probably," he admitted gruffly.

She rubbed his neck. “Okay. I can stay a bit.”

"Thank you.”

She kissed his forehead, and held him until he drifted off.

*

Tony woke up with Pepper wrapped around him and tucked in his arms. It reminded him of that morning on the train, after his first heart attack—or whatever that was. Though in this case she was literally under the blankets, tangled up like a lover.

It was. . . really nice. Much nicer than he would have liked to admit. He should get up. Or roust her to leave before Jarvis got here. But she was warm and soft and smelled of roses and lavender. And so he just hugged her close. She made such a happy, contented noise and snuggled closer.

He felt a little less guilty at that. He didn't think he was coercing her into doing anything she didn't want to do. He was her boss and he had dragged her out to the middle of nowhere. But happy noises like that couldn't be faked.

He really needed to stop doing this. Dragging her out of bed in the middle of the night. He needed to figure out how to stop having these attacks. How to get better. He needed an engineer for his body and possibly his mind.

That. . . that was probably called a doctor.

He sighed deeply. It was annoying when she was right all the time.

He could feel her stir, and she patted his chest. “You all right?”

"Yeah, just coming to a realization.”

“Mmm?”

"I need a doctor.”

She leaned back to look at him. “I just told you that.”

"I know. I'm now agreeing with you.”

“Good. I’ll send out some letters.” She rolled away and sat up, and he missed her more than he could say. “I should get back to my room and get my day started.”

"Yes." He watched the arch of her back as she stretched. "I'll see you downstairs.”

She turned and looked at him, and he couldn’t read her expression. But there was something sad in it. It was gone just as quickly, and she put her polished professional face on, even as she sat there in her nightgown. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

"Thank you, Pepper," he said quietly.

“You’re welcome, Tony,” she replied. Then she stood up and went back to her room.

It took a while for Pepper to find the doctor. It turned out to be a younger woman—at least for a doctor—with a scar on her face and a prickly disposition. She was also the first doctor to look at him and do something other than shrug and tell him to wait to die.

She gave him nitroglycerine to take and sachets to put under his pillow and keep in his pockets. She talked about his "attacks" like she'd experienced them first hand, brewed him drinks and helped him sleep without dreams, and when he sassed her she planted her fists on her hips and stared him down. And somehow, miraculously, he started to feel a little better.

He did not miss the nightmares. But he did miss Pepper coming into his room at night.

Lately he’d been hiring people it seemed just to manage things. He’d hired a head housekeeper to manage the growing staff of maids. He’d hired a draftsman after Rogers, his construction foreman, had put his foot down about building more elaborate additions without blueprints.

“We should expand the staff quarters. Give them more leisure space,” he told Bennett, the draftsman, during their morning meeting.

Bennett looked up. “You’d be better to just build them new quarters, to spec, and then repurpose the old."

Tony was pretty sure Bennet would like to stab him most of the time, but he did have great ideas. "Any thoughts on where?”

“Depends on how much you want to re-arrange the inside.”

He was more than happy to rearrange to everything daily. But he now had a lot of people living here and hated to disrupt their lives more than he had to. "If it's somewhere unused then sky's the limit. If we have to dig into currently occupied space I'd rather go out.”

He nodded. “I’ll find a spot.”

"Thanks, Bennet. I want a couple of different parlors. Maybe an atrium or covered balcony.”

“Perhaps you could conduct some sort of poll. See what people would like in their living space.”

"Huh." He considered a moment. "Good idea. I'll talk to Potts and Carter about that.”

As it turned out, they wanted lots of things. Doc wanted space on the first floor accessible from the inside and out, with electric lights and hot running water. They wanted a bathroom upstairs. They wanted a fireplace. They asked for a sewing room and more office space. 

The thing that surprised him the most was that Pepper requested a room over there, in the new Servants Wing.

"Have I offended you in some way?" he asked her when he tracked her down.

“No, of course not. But you don’t need me in the middle of the night anymore, which is the only reason I’m in your wing. It’s a little. . .unseemly.”

He waved a hand. "It's the west, who cares about seemly?”

“Lots of people. People in town, people who work here. I’m not your mistress and I’m tired of people thinking I am.”

His first instinct was to offer her the position, which he immediately tamped down. The best case scenario was her slapping him and heading back east. Unfortunately, he didn't have any other valid arguments for her staying put.

“Well,” she said quietly. “All right then.”

He studied her a moment. "If it weren't for people talking, would you want to stay?”

She sighed. “There is no reason for me to.”

"I liked having you there.”

She was sitting behind her desk, and she shuffled her papers around a moment. “I know. And I know you’re accustomed to getting everything you want. But I need a little space. I can’t keep doing this.” 

"Oh." He scowled, but nodded. "I'll make sure it's a very nice room.”

That got her to smile. He thought it looked a little sad, or maybe it was his imagination. “That I believe.”

Unsure, he asked, "Do you need anything else from me?”

“I give myself raises all the time. You don’t notice.”

"Well, keep up the good work.”

He left, then, but felt unsettled all day. It would be months before the new wing was built, and in the meantime she was still in the room next to him. Something that felt suddenly awkward. His medication was running low, and he tried to get to sleep without it—though he waited for Pepper’s room to be quiet before he did so.

It quickly became apparent it wasn’t happening, perhaps because he was afraid of knocking on her door. His choices were to risk bothering Pepper in the middle of the night, or go downstairs _now_ and bother Doc.

He really, really, _really_ did not expect Doc’s door, at 10PM, to be opened by Barnes in his shirtsleeves.

There was a painfully awkward moment while they stared at each other. Then Tony cleared his throat. "Is she . . . uh, available?”

She appeared behind him, in a robe but otherwise decent. “What’s wrong?”

"I can't sleep and I'm out of medicine."

She scrubbed a hand over her face. "You didn't notice this until just now?"

"I thought I could sleep without it.”

Doc sighed and made a motion for him to come in. “Did you go through Pepper’s stash, too?”

He frowned, stopping halfway in the room. "Pepper has a stash?”

“Yes. For scenarios such as this.” 

"You do know she's not my mistress, right? She's not in charge of my sleeping.”

“I would have said companion,” she replied rifling in her chest of tiny drawers. “Mistress implies a relationship that’s primarily about sex. She’s not among the women who come to me for contraception, but I know she has opinions about your sleep, and sometimes does sleep in your bed.” She crouched open a lower drawer. “If that had been outlined in my job duties I’d have stabbed you during the interview.”

Behind him Barnes snorted.

"Pepper and I have known each other a long time," he said lamely.

"Mmm." She put some of the blackish brown powder in a jar, added a dash of something else, then swirled it and handed it to him. "Do you still have the measuring spoon?" He nodded. "That should last a week, by then I can have a new, larger batch. In the future, a little warning would be good."

He looked down at the vial in his hand. "Right. Of course.”

Barnes opened the door again and cheerfully said, “Goodnight!”

Tony looked from one to the other, decided that was a mystery for another day, and headed out. The door closed behind him with a click of a lock.

Sighing, he made his way back to his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is there an Amanda story for this universe? Of course there is. It'll start posting soon.


	4. Chapter 4

“Did you know Doc and Barnes are. . .involved?” Tony asked her over breakfast. They ate most of their meals together.

Pepper looked up, fork halfway to her mouth. “I did. I think everyone knows.”

He threw up his hands. "No one tells me anything. How long has this been going on?”

“Couple of months.”

"Sheesh. I would not have predicted it. She seems too prickly to unwind. Or go for that type of man.”

“Lots of people have paired off. It’s human nature, and we’ve got a community here. . .” She shrugged. “They seem to make each other happy.” She paused. “Don’t be you and make him an inappropriate arm attachment.”

He put on his best innocent expression. "I just want to make sure my doctor is being taking care of.”

“I gave her a raise, too.”

"For sleeping with Barnes?”

She choked on her eggs. “No. For helping you.”

"Ah. Yes. She has done that." He poked at his food. "She told me you have a stash of my medicine.”

“Of course I do. I know you.” Keeping track of things was not his strong suit.

"I didn't know that. I pestered her because I didn't want to bother you.”

She poured herself some more tea, then said, “It’s my job to be bothered.” But that wasn’t all it was and they both new it. “And I worry about you.”

"You wanted to move away from me. I figured that meant you didn't want to be bothered.”

“I don’t want to move away from you,” she said, putting her cup down. “I just need to.”

"What does that mean?”

“It means when we got on that train out west, we had a clearly defined relationship. You were my boss and I was your secretary. And I know we were kind of unconventional already but since we came out here it’s been. . .” She didn’t even know what word she was looking for. All she could manage was, “Different.”

Tony looked at her a moment, with that assessing look she could never really read. "Is different bad?”

“I don’t know. But I know it’s painful.” 

He paused. "Can I help?”

That felt like such a loaded question. She didn’t even know where to start. “I don’t think it’s a problem that can be solved with a gadget.”

Another pause. "Do you want to be something other than boss and secretary?”

She looked up at him. “Is this where you ask me to actually be your mistress?” It was far more tempting than she wanted to admit.

"Doc used the word companion. Meaning there was more to it than sex. That we care about each other as more than just another body in the bed.”

“Technically I think that’s a job where you’re paid to befriend and entertain and care for an enfeebled person. Or a young woman who needs a chaperone.”

"I am pretty feeble.”

“Whatever label you give to it, I would still be a woman you pay who sleeps with you. And I don’t know if I can do that.” She closed her eyes, and chose to be honest. “Even though I want to.”

His brows shot up. "You want to sleep with me?”

She opened her eyes, almost offended by the look on his face. “Isn’t that what we were just talking about?” She could feel her face turning red.

"Yes but I assumed it was one sided.”

Now her eyebrows went up. “And you thought I’d do it anyway?”

"No! That's why I haven't asked.”

She rubbed her eyes, feeling a headache, or maybe tears, forming behind them. “Well, I do. But I shouldn’t.”

His mouth opened and closed. "Why not?”

“Because I work for you and I will feel like a kept woman.” And she was almost certainly in love with him, and it might break her heart.

"I could fire you," he offered.

“And then how would I support myself?”

"Your generous severance package.”

“You are really good at semantics and loopholes.” She got up, folding her napkin and setting it on the table. “Doesn’t always work on the heart,” she told him, going close enough to touch him, but not daring to. “But I’ll think about it.”

He held her gaze, eyes dark. "The position will remain open for you.”

Pepper nodded, and left the dining room without saying anything else. She kept herself busy most of the day. In the afternoon she had a sewing/mending/knitting group with a bunch of the other women servants and she sincerely thought about skipping. But it was one of her favorite things.

When she got to the parlor Nat, Sharon, and Amanda were already there, each with their own projects. Sharon had been hired a little over a month ago to run the household staff, which she did with the efficiency and skill of an army quartermaster.

“Hi,” Pepper said, settling in her chair. “Sorry I’m late. One of those days.”

"Sit," Natasha said. "Amanda is waxing poetic about Barnes's chest."

The doctor's cheeks pinked. "It's a very nice chest!”

“Your relationship with him was apparently news to Mr. Stark,” Pepper said. “I got an earful this morning.”

"Yes, James insisted on answering the door when someone knocked. I suppose I'm lucky it wasn't a maid who ran off terrified.”

“Sorry he bothered you, he decided he didn’t want to wake me.”

"It's fine. I'm a live in doctor, I'm always on call. Did he finally get to sleep?”

Pepper unfolded the stockings she was darning. “Apparently. Though I didn’t specifically ask. It was. . . an odd morning.”

There was a beat of silence and she looked up to find all three of them watching her. "How so?" Natasha asked.

“Well, I have finally, after all these years, received the mistress invitation.” She looked down at her needles so she wouldn’t have to look at them. “Even offered to fire me from my current position so I would feel less like a whore. No offense,” she said in Natasha’s direction.

"None taken. Is not for everyone."

"He actually asked you?" Sharon said. "Like a job offer. Was there a letter outlining responsibilities?”

“No, no. It wasn’t the explicit. But it was also obvious. He doesn’t want me to move to the staff wing, and I tried explaining me feelings and that’s where it got me.” She sighed. “And the worst part is I’m considering it.”

"Do you need help with a pros and cons list?" That was Amanda - ever practical.

“I’m 35, I’m not going to get a better offer.” 

"He is handsome," Nat offered. "And very rich."

"He clearly adores you," Amanda added.

Pepper looked up at her. “I don't know about that part.”

She blinked at her. "Seriously?" She looked at the others. "Am I alone here?"

The other two shook their heads. "He gazes at you like a man looks at a goddess," Natasha told her.

“You’re all out of your minds,” she replied. “He just needs certain things from me.”

"Perhaps this is one of those things you might be too close to see clearly?" Sharon asked.

“You think I’d be able to tell if someone was in love with me.”

"He clearly can't tell you're in love with him.”

She sighed, deciding to look at her mending again. It didn’t hold any answers. “I’ve been hiding that a long time.”

"Fuck him," Natasha said confidently. "Get it out of your system.”

“I can’t see how that’s going to get him out of my system.” She swallowed a sudden lump. “I’d probably have to leave.”

"If you're _not_ going to fuck him you'll have to leave, too.”

That sounded more awful than she could stand. And where would she go, anyway? She loved it here. The people. The weird house. Him. “Right,” she said quietly. 

"I know I'm new here," Sharon said. "But have you tried telling him you have feelings for him and don't want to sleep with him unless that's mutual?”

“I have not. He’s not really good with feelings.”

"Make him.”

“That is. . . easier said than done. Though I guess I don’t have much to lose. Or everything to lose, depending on how you look at it.”

"That's sort of what I was saying. If all your options are terrible, chose the one that has the best chance of an upside.”

“Fair point.” There was probably no way to stay where she was. They’d already crossed the rubicon.

"He's a nice guy," Amanda offered. "All appearances to the contrary. I think he might surprise you.”

“It is a very scary thing,” Pepper said. “I’ll have to think about it.”

"We're happy to held you talk it out.”

“I’ll be okay,” she said. “I know how to talk to him. I know how he thinks. Bit it’s a line there’s no going back from.”

"Life is full of those," Natasha said. "It's nice to see it coming.”

*

Tony had not seen Pepper all day. Not since he’d somehow bungled his way into propositioning her at breakfast. It had not been one of his finer moments. Seemed a good idea to just hide in his workshop. 

He did at least have something interesting to work on. He was using the barrel rotary mechanism from his big machine gun to build a machine that washed clothes.

Of course, he had never washed clothes in his life, so he should probably find someone who had to get their input. He was pretty sure the basic concept was sound, but there was probably some nuance he was missing.

“It needs heat.”

He jumped and glanced over his shoulder. “Pardon?"

Pepper was on the bottom step. “People aren’t going to want to drain their whole boiler—if they even have one—for wash. It should heat itself.”

Frowning, he looked back at the contraption. "I'll have to think about that.”

“Well, mostly I came down here to tell you it’s late, and remind you Doc doesn’t like it when you don’t sleep.”

"What time is it?”

“Almost 11.”

Well, at least the day had passed quickly. "All right. Maybe I'll sleep on it.”

She came closer, reaching out to spin the drum. “It’s a good idea. The wash machine.”

"Thank you. I imagine the maids here will be happy to test it out for me.”

“It’s the kind of thing that will make people’s lives easier. Put good into the world.”

"That's the goal. Give everyone as much free time as I have.”

She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Don’t stay up too late.”

He swore his brain shut down at the kiss. "I'll head up now. I don't want to lose track of time again.”

“All right.” She was standing so close to him. “You know I worry.”

"I know you do. It's probably why I'm alive.”

She smiled at him. “Probably.”

"Thank you for that," he said quietly.

“We all need that, don’t we? Someone to care for us?”

Not entirely sure where she was going with this, he none the less answered honestly. "I didn't used to think so, but I've come around to it. I'm happier with people around me. Knowing there are those who'd miss me.”

“I’d miss you. I missed you when you didn’t come back to New York. I had every reason to leave and I just couldn’t. Some part of me still hoped you’d come back.”

He smiled and touched her arm. "And see? I did.”

“Took me a long time to figure out why. Why I stayed, why I followed you across the country, why I stay here.”

"What conclusion did you come to?" he asked, expecting a snarky answer.

He could see her falter and hesitate. “That you were all I had, and I didn’t want to be without you.”

He reached out and took her hand. "You're all I have, too.”

She looked down at their linked hands, rubbing her thumb across his knuckles. “I can’t take this strange half-space we live in. I think being your mistress will only make that worse.”

He tried not to let his disappointment show. "Do you think anything will help?”

“Change my mind? Probably not.” She hesitated again, then said, “I have feelings for you. And I can’t seem to put them away.”

Tony was starting to get a glimmer of what had gone wrong and it was funny as it was frustrating. "Pepper, when was the last time I had a mistress?”

She looked up at him, clearly confused by the question. “For my own sanity I stopped paying attention to your evening comings and goings many years ago.”

"I dismissed the last one about three years before the demo and kidnapping. Do you know why?”

Her eyes searched his face, and she opened her mouth to say something only to close it again. Instead she just shook her head.

"You wore a dress in a very pale yellow that made your skin glow. And I realized no other woman would compare to you.”

“I know you want me,” she said quietly. “I’ve known that for a while. Granted, I didn’t know it was _that_ long.”

"You assume there's no emotion behind the wanting. You're wrong. You're all I have, Pepper. You're the only person I begged to come with me here.”

“You said you needed me,” she replied. 

"I do need you. You take care of me. And I try, in my way, to take care of you.” He was probably terrible at it. But he tried.

She took a deep, shuddery breath. “So what do we do now?”

This was crazy. But then, so was he. And besides, all his best decisions were spontaneous. Tony took a breath and leapt."If you won't be my mistress, would you consider being my wife?”

Pepper stared at him with her mouth open for a painfully long moment, then as easy as breathing she said, “Yes.”

His face split into a grin and he stepped closer to kiss her. Her arms came around him and she swayed into him. She opened her mouth and it took off, fueled by too many years of quiet need finally let loose. She still smelled like lavender and rose.

Months ago, he'd tried to get a bed set up down here, but she and Doc had refused to allow it. Now, he really regretted letting them win. Though he now understood why Barnes had taken their side.

"Upstairs?" he murmured on her mouth, hands flexing on her waist. When she nodded, he pulled her over to the bookshelf that was the door to his hidden staircase that connected his workshop and his bedroom. He’d built it so he could come down here in the middle of the night without disturbing anyone.

About halfway, she stopped and turned to look back at him. “Three years?”

He grinned. "Are you impressed or horrified?”

“A little of both. Why didn’t you say something?”

"You were my employee. It felt inappropriate.”

“Probably,” she conceded, holding her hands up helplessly. “But it’s such a long time.”

He smiled and kissed her, herding her up the stairs. "I suppose for a while I thought it might go away. Was just a phase. Then I felt awkward and didn't know how to start.”

She walked further and stopped again. “What about this morning?”

"What about it?”

“Why didn’t you say anything about it then? I worried about this all day. I thought I was going to have to leave.”

"I don't know. You sort of sounded like you were quitting. I didn't want to dump my feeling on you and try to influence you to stay if you didn't want to." She looked at him incredulously and he spread his arms. "I'm really bad at this, all right?”

“You’re horrible at this. You’re lucky I love you. No one else would put up with it.”

He grinned widely. "I love you, too.”

“Well. Good.” She came down the two steps to kiss him. He groaned and wrapped his arms around her, lifting off her feet as he kept walking up the stairs. When he stumbled a little, she said, “Okay, okay, let me walk. If we fall, we’ll die in here and no one will know where to look.”

"Think of the story the towns folk would tell. Add to my legend.”

She laughed and started back up the stairs. He followed, thinking how very lucky he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These stories ended up shorter than usual, but that's how they ended up coming out. Sometimes we write entres, sometimes we write snacks.


End file.
